


a whole new galaxy and you're still the brightest star

by clowning



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Awkwardness, F/F, Vignettes, basically these kids figuring out what to do with themselves, the andromeda crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-06 12:31:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10334783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowning/pseuds/clowning
Summary: Vignettes about gays in space. Among other things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please drop a kudos or a comment if you are so inclined :) 
> 
> updates as they come
> 
> Note: I have a big project in the beginning stages (for the original trilogy), so I apologize in advance for the potential lag in updates.

Flynn’s heart hammers an eager tattoo on her ribs as the Tempest lands before her team.

(This is really happening.)

Cora looks to her expectantly, and she realizes that she’s been idling, lost in admiration for this ship, and all it represented. All the people, their hopes and dreams. Their futures. Her cheeks ache from grinning so much. They move to the loading area where crew members are moving up and down the docking ramp, loading crates and coming back down for more. Flynn gets lost, mesmerized by the movement of the crowd- until a turian steps down and heads her way.

She’s tall, armored, with a visor that accentuates her sharp eyes.

“So you’re the one who’s making everything happen.”

The turian’s intense visage roams over Flynn, studying her, analyzing. Flynn swallows hard.

“Vetra. Vetra Nyx. Initiative wrangler, provisioner, gunner, and everything in between. Pathfinder, is it?”

Flynn chuckles nervously, and clears her throat. “That’s what they’re tellin’ me.”

Vetra’s mandibles flex in lieu of a smile. “Good to meet you. Let’s get on the ship; the sooner we get out of here, the better.” 

Excitement broils in her stomach at the possibility, so Flynn tosses the question her way. “You’re coming with us?”

She hopes she doesn’t sound too eager, but just enough.

“Yes. Otherwise, there’s no way they’re letting the ship off this station.”

Flynn tilts her head at the woman’s tone, picking up on the anxious haste. She hooks her thumbs in her belt loops, rocks back on her heels. She holds a small celebration in her head.

“What’s the rush?”

“Just don’t want to waste any more time.” 

“Heh. I hear you there.” Cora elbows her gently on the ribs as they begin their ascent to the ship, following Vetra’s lead. The thrill is glinting in the commando’s eyes, and the two women mirror each other in emotion.

A man’s voice travels across the loading dock.

“Hold it! Hold it. You’re not going anywhere.” A worker with a datapad in hand strides their way, an accusing finger outstretched. Cora’s eye twitches, and Ryder has to hold in a chuckle before turning to get a proper look at him. Flynn opens her mouth to start, but Vetra beats her to the punch, laying a soothing hand on her shoulder, before moving forward to work magic.

Flynn can’t help but be impressed. And maybe enthralled by the turian’s smooth voice.


	2. circumstellar habitable zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... this happened. peebee is such a sly gal, aint she?
> 
> please feel free to drop a kudos or a comment if ya like! :)

Flynn never idles in her own quarters. Almost never sleeps there, either. She loves the Tempest, no doubt about it, it’s just…

Too much. The viewports too large, leaving her exposed to the vacuum of space; if she gets too close, nebulas will claim her and swallow her whole. The bed too centered in the living space, too much room for ghosts of the memories of Mom padding across a carpeted floor to lean over and kiss her goodnight. The soft, almost inaudible hum of consoles remind her too much of Taylor staying at her desk into the early hours of dawn, typing away and telling her, “don’t let me stop, Sis; this stuff’s due in like- I don’t even know- an hour.”

And Dad. Fuck. It’s a mess. She keeps on thinking about how this isn’t even her room. It was meant to be Alec’s. She imagines him staying awake for much too long, building SAM up into something greater, all while hunched over the desk that she can’t possibly fill with ideas like he could.

(Flynn also thinks about afternoons spent as a child, leaning against her dad’s chest, gaze pouring over lines of code sprawling down the screen of a datapad. Alec started her with the basics: opening and closing tags, if-then scenarios, and then sent her on her way.)

She hates to think about telling Taylor that their father died after he wakes up from a coma. 

(“Breathe deep.”

 

_...It should have been me.)_

And so, Flynn finds other places to stay. She slouches on the couch with Liam, propping her feet up and drinking more than she should. They talk about films, girls, and her tattoos. Once she’s buzzed, they talk about their families and how much they want to succeed. Eventually, though, Liam gets sleepy and he does his best to kick her out politely. Flynn only laughs and exits the room, drink in hand. She wanders for a bit. She passes by Drack and shuffles through the fridge for something suitable to snack on for a while. 

(“Heya, Drack.”

A solid pat on her arm as she moves on.

“Hey, kid.”)

Flynn always hates eating alone. And when things get too quiet. So, she goes to a place where she won’t experience either. Where she won’t hear her ears ring in the near-silence of a sleepy ship. Or rather, she goes to a person.

Flynn can hear Peebee shuffling about in her hidey-hole before she’s even halfway down the hall. The asari’s shadow dances on the floor where a trail of light leans out of the doorway. Flynn knocks on the door frame. Peebee turns, looking confused for a hot second. 

“Can I watch you work? I won’t be in the way or anything.”

Flynn can feel Peebee’s eyes trace the shadows under her own. Then she takes a gander at the food and drink in each hand.

“That’s cool, but you’re sharing.”

She smiles, no matter how tired.

“Mm.” 

Flynn pulls up a spare chair to the far side of Peebee’s worktable and sets the bowl and her beer an equal distance between them. Tonight, she’s tinkering with something small, pulling out wires and rearranging them, splicing. Flynn props her head up on her palm and reaches forward to grab the beer, taking a swig. Her table partner’s restless fingers cease their tinkering and stretch towards the bottle. Ryder hands it over. They trade like this for a while, and Flynn zones, watching Peebee’s hands work.

Peebee taps her foot rapidly before it comes to a stop. She takes a swig, then fixes Flynn with a look. 

“Alright,” she says, startling Flynn from her daze. “I know that I’m probably not the best person to be lecturing you on this, but fuck it.”

Flynn lifts her head up, leaning back in her chair to look up at Peebee as she stands over her. She rubs her dry eyes with the heel of her palm.  
“You need to sleep. And yeah, that’s rich coming from me, but you’re the Pathfinder. You need to be at your best, make dreams come true- blah, blah, blah- right?”

“Wel-” 

She’s shushed immediately by a gloved finger on her lips.

“Nope. Nuh uh. Go rest. I’ll take the bowl and stuff back to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Peebee, really. I just-” she sighs. “I can’t sleep. At all. I can’t.” 

She doesn’t tell her why because she thinks it might be too much to tell somebody who you hardly know. But, Christ, Peebee’s mind moves a mile a minute and a sly smirk bleeds onto her lips. She moves forward, setting the beer bottle down as she goes, swinging a leg over Flynn’s thighs, straddling her (again). Flynn shudders as cool leather graces her jaw, Peebee’s fingers ghosting over her skin. 

“You know,” she murmurs, leaning in until their lips are almost touching. “I think I have a way to fix that… leave you all worn out. Yeah?” 

A breathless, “Yes, please.”

Peebee rolls her hips, and closes the distance between their lips. Flynn groans, bringing her hands to the thighs atop hers.

Her kiss burns like the best kind of turian brandy, scorching everything else except the thoughts of the woman in her lap.

(Fuck. She’s going to ask Suvi to pray for her.)


	3. convalescent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flynn's such a dork
> 
> please live a comment or a kudos if that's what floats your boat :)

They’re back from a skirmish on Eos, driving back Kett stragglers as new colonists situate themselves. Flynn had insisted on seeing the new wave of supplies down to the settlements herself, making certain that everyone was well on their way to having everything they could possibly need. 

As kind of a gesture as it was, it cost them a few scrapes. A Kett strike team, desperate to maintain any sort of foothold, ambushed as crates were being divvied up by civilians. They were dealt with relatively quickly (Vetra is efficient, and if she’s going to pride herself on something, that’s her pick), though not before scoring a few hits.

Vetra quietly waits her turn to be patched up by Dr. T’Perro, who is currently occupied with disinfecting an entry wound in Flynn’s stomach. She hisses as the clear liquid hits the flesh and bubbles, her hands clenching into fists, twitching. 

“Hold still,” Lexi says, putting her hands on her sides to move her back into an optimal position for treatment of the wound. 

“Right.” 

Once the wound is stitched, slathered in medigel and bandaged, Lexi pats Flynn on her shoulder, helping her rise to a sitting position and hop off the cot. “Well done, dear. Be sure to rest.”

“You bet.” A smile pulls on the corner of Flynn’s lips. “Thanks, mom.”

Vetra can’t help but smile, chuckles escaping her.

Flynn only registers what she said after Lexi starts chuckling too, making her way over to Vetra to begin with her treatment. She claps her hand over her mouth, going red in the tips of her ears. 

Both Lexi and Vetra lose their minds at that, laughing hard. 

(It hurts the turian’s sore muscles, but she isn’t even close to caring.)

Flynn utters from behind her hand, “sorry”. She avoids the doctor’s gaze as she strides out of the medbay. Vetra stares after her, and a cool swab on the cut on her neck lets her know that the doctor has calmed and focused.

She can’t help but murmur, “cute.”

Lexi grins and shakes her head.


	4. desperado, desperado

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyoooo! much thanks to you all for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks. you guys sure know how to make a gal feel special :)

It’s almost too often that Vetra indulges Flynn’s invites to coffee at absolutely unreasonable times. Almost. 

This time she had just finished calls between weapons suppliers and requisition officers who were willing to bullshit logs for a favour or creds. Flynn knocked before poking her head in, keeping a respectful distance for Vetra’s workspace. She held up two mugs, their handles hooked over her index finger. 

She raises her eyebrows in question. “Coffee, Vetra?”

“Sure,” she says with a grin. She catches herself rumbling her subharmonics deeper than they usually go, all just to see the Pathfinder’s gaunt cheeks paint themselves with a blush. 

They walk side by side to the kitchen where Flynn had already started the coffeemaker- obtained via Vetra, of course, door sliding shut behind their entrance. Flynn hops up onto the counter once they’re in, placing her mug on the little platform of the appliance. Vetra observes the rest of the counter where there’s an assortment of creams and sugars and other things that Flynn dares to experiment with in her beverages. 

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the sounds of liquid pouring into cups and and the purr of the ship’s engines. Vetra relishes in this. And then, she relishes in the quiet tone Flynn takes on with her voice whenever it’s just the two of them. 

“How’s Sid?” she asks, swinging her legs a little. Vetra leans on the counter next to her, on one elbow so she can look at Flynn as she answers. 

“She’s good. Trying to find work to occupy herself with. She’s hung up on an asari maiden that she never shuts up about.”

Her voice is so rich with affection, and Flynn smiles, handing a fresh mug of coffee to her. Flynn always smiles when Vetra talks about her sister.

“That’s good,” Flynn says, “oh- sugar or anything?”

“Just put in whatever you’re having.”

“Cool. So are Sid and this girl actually together, or…?”

“No, they’re skirting around each other. Flirting, but not much else.”

Flynn nods, preparing both of their drinks with cream, sugar, and what Vetra is pretty sure is chocolate. She hands her the mug, and Vetra takes a small sip, carapace clinking on the mug’s rim. The drink is alarmingly sweet, but the fact that it’s something Flynn enjoys makes it charming, so Vetra drinks it anyway. 

“Good?”

“Mm. It is.”

“Good.”

They both take a minute to enjoy their drinks. 

(Vetra tries to make her stares at the lines of Flynn’s throat as subtle as possible.)

Vetra sets down her mug. “Any news on your brother yet?”

“Same old, same old. Not getting worse but not getting better, either.” Her voice wavers.

Flynn’s eyebrows knit together in worry and her blue eyes stare down at the mug in her hands. It’s a shame for eyes as pretty as hers to be sad, Vetra thinks. She pushes off of the counter and comes to stand in front of Flynn. She gently removes the coffee from her hands, setting it aside and tilting Flynn’s chin up so she meets Vetra’s eyes.

“He will get better, Flynn. He is your twin, just as strong as you. He’ll make it.” 

Flynn reaches up to wrap her arms around Vetra’s neck, holding her close and heaving a shaky sigh. 

“Thank you,” she whispers into the soft flesh below her mandibles. Vetra’s large hands go to Flynn’s slim hips, rubbing circles over the bones that protrude ever so slightly. 

(She quietly wonders how long it’s been since Flynn received this kind of emotional support.)

She feels a fluttering kiss pressed there, under her jaw. She can’t help the subsequent hum that rumbles in her chest.  
“Let’s move on to happier thoughts, shall we?” The turian asks, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. She wants so badly for the contact to be felt beyond a muffled version of itself against her carapace, but Flynn responds with a moan, and she feels it reverberate. She certainly can’t complain then. 

Flynn deepens the kiss, swiping over sharp teeth with her tongue. The flavor of coffee lingers, and Vetra seeks out more of it. The turian pulls back and moves down to nip at the tattoos that decorate the soft flesh of her neck, soothing with open-mouthed kisses. Her talons slide down muscled thighs, squeezing at her knees and slowly trailing their way back up. She stops just before she reaches the apex, and Flynn sucks in a breath. 

Vetra murmurs into Flynn’s ear, “you want this, correct?”

“I-I, yeah. Yes.” Flynn’s words tremble along with her. Vetra growls, and picks her up almost too easily, holding her steady as legs hook around her waist. She walks them over to the booth that occupies the corner, placing the human in her lap. 

( _Her_ human? She needs clarification on this, but not before she takes care of Flynn.)

Vetra pulls the fabric of Flynn’s shirt up over her chest and sets it aside. She lets her eyes roam over the planes of muscle on her stomach, and follows with kisses. She circles erect nipples with her thumbs, enjoying the pink hue to Flynn’s cheeks and the way she squirms, hot puffs of breath hitting her neck. 

“Please, Vetra.”

Said turian’s mandibles quiver at the use of her name, but she makes no move to alleviate the burning ache between Flynn’s legs. She continues her teasing, and catches her partner’s hips before they can grind down on her own. 

Flynn whines, and Vetra hushes her with another kiss. 

“Not just yet,” she says, “be patient. I’m not finished looking at you.”

Flynn leans her head back, closing her eyes, small utterances of pleas spilling out of her lips. 

Vetra gently scrapes back upward with her talons, letting the bump over the slight impression of her ribs, on which she finds more tattoos, intricate designs that she traces while they expand with shuddering breaths. 

“You are so beautiful, Flynn. So strong and beautiful.”

Flynn lets out a moan, and Vetra smirks. 

“So good and brave.”

Another attempt at relief by Flynn, and her hips are caught again. Vetra hooks her fingers into the waistband of her trousers, tugging them downwards. Flynn places her hands on Vetra’s, helping her slide them down, standing briefly to slide them all the way down and off. 

Once she’s back in her grasp, Vetra digs her talons into the soft flesh of Flynn’s hips.

“Good,” Vetra tells her, and Flynn’s blush deepens. She looks at the body above hers, soft and hard at the same time, lean, collarbones prominent. 

Vetra kisses up her chest, up to the tendons of her neck and bites. Flynn cries out, hands flying up to grasp at Vetra’s shoulders, desperate for an anchor to keep her steady through the waves of sensation. Vetra finally, finally dips a finger between Flynn’s legs, teasing through her folds before she finds her clit. 

She doesn’t move, and neither does Flynn, who looks up at Vetra reverently, waiting.

“You’re slick as _sin._ ”

Vetra doesn’t stop Flynn from bucking her hips, this time, letting her have a taste of friction. Her breaths hitch with her movements, clumsy and without rhythm. Vetra eggs her on, softly with praises, “good, Flynn. Good girl.”

Vetra stills her eventually, just as Flynn starts to pick up a steady pace, pulling her fingers away. Flynn buries her face in her neck, thighs twitching, all want and desperate need, aching and trying not to fall apart. 

Vetra picks her up again, laying her on the kitchen table, fingers sliding through her heat and teasing at her entrance. She slides one finger in, so easily, up to the knuckle.  
Flynn scrambles for purchase at the edge of the table, chest heaving.

She pulls out and slides back in with a second, seating herself back down on the booth, resting Flynn’s knees on her broad shoulders. Curling her fingers, she pumps in and back out, grinning as Flynn brings her own hand up and bites down on her fist, eyes closed.

She leans forward and kisses her navel, downward until she presses a gentle kiss to Flynn’s swollen clit, smirking as she shook and moaned. She made her way to her own hand, slowly dragging the rasp of her rough tongue through her folds, sucking at Flynn’s clit. 

“Fuck- Vetra, please-”

She sucks and licks again, again and again, unrelenting. Flynn goes silent, arching her back up, shaking with her orgasm. Vetra continues, letting her ride her pleasure until she’s panting and twitching with aftershocks. 

Once she stills, Vetra does too, pulling out and bringing her talons up to her mouth, sucking them clean. 

Flynn’s forearm is covering her eyes, her chest falling and rising. Finally she sits up, kissing Vetra and tasting herself on her tongue. She pulls back and rests her forehead on the turian’s. 

“Thank you. That was…” she loses her words and settles for another quick kiss. 

“Intense?” Vetra supplements. 

Flynn smiles and laughs, blue eyes shining.

“Yeah. Now, Vetra, let’s see about you.”


	5. doubletalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn is bad at addressing her feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another!
> 
> kudos, comments, and the like are immensely appreciated :)

The bridge is probably Flynn’s favorite place on the ship. Consoles beep and hum quietly, orchestrating a tender lullaby for relaxation. Suvi and Kallo always speak softly, giving gentle smiles when they look at Flynn leaning on a console or sitting on the arms of their seats. 

Conversation with them is always something Flynn looks forward to. She invites Suvi to talk more about her religion, what its tenets are and how she thinks they influence her. She never shoots her down, though, only tries to wrap her head around the concept of an omnipotent being who still found time to be benevolent.

(Neither of the two judge when Flynn asks if God would have let her mother die when she was young. If God watched as her father choked on his last breaths. Tentatively, after a moment, Suvi says softly, “Yes. If only to make you stronger.” 

Flynn looks over at Kallo. He doesn’t speak, but he nods resolutely.)

And, of course, gossiping with Kallo is always the best. He complains about Gil trying to launch Peebee in an escape pod after she snatched some parts he was after. He mentions overhearing another one of Vetra’s conversations with her sister. Sid is trying to buy Vetra a new visor, but neither of them can decide on a color. Flynn grins until her cheeks ache.

Kallo somehow seems to know all; everyone’s personal developments.

Taylor is absolutely going to be head over heels for him when he wakes up. She tells Kallo this.

“My brother is going to love you.”

Kallo gives her a quirked look. “Really?” 

“Oh yeah,” she says, puffing her chest up and putting on an absolutely horrid imitation of her brother, chest puffed and shoulders stretched as far as they’d go. “Salarians- their vast intelligence and cute eyes, don’t even get me started on their adorable, tiny chests-” 

She collapses into laughter, Suvi already there, Kallo joining despite the green flush spreading to his cheeks. They shake in their seats, and Suvi snorts and the three start all over again. The sounds of their cackling reverberate against walls so loudly, Flynn is sure they’ve pissed a few people off. Their chests heave as they try and put wind back in their lungs. 

Once they’ve all settled and the bridge is quiet once again, Kallo studies Flynn. She raises an eyebrow at him. He opens his mouth then shuts it, trying to decide how to begin.

“Any news on your, ah, _situation?”_

She knows that Kallo and Suvi know about her predicament with Peebee and Vetra. Both give her expectant looks.

(The trio is drunk, slouching in the seedy bar of a planet Flynn can’t remember the name of. 

The words spill out before she can stop them: 

“Suvi-” she hiccups and starts again. “Suvi, does God know what to do when you’re stuck between a turian and an asari?”)

Flynn sighs and looks out to the stars. She runs a hand through her hair. He gets the message. Suvi pipes up from her station, a completely serious look on her face.

“I say threesome.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Kallo asks if Suvi is allowed to think of such lewd things. The redhead turns quickly and shoots a ridiculously animated smirk. The three are still for a moment. Suvi’s lips are twitching as laughs slip from her mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping them in.

She breaks and they keel over, clutching at their stomachs.


	6. swelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hot, there's missions to complete, and Vetra is confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah there! sorry for the lag in updates, school has been thoroughly kicking my ass, haha
> 
> the drill with kudos and comments remains the same :) thanks a bunch for your collective patience

Flynn tears off her helmet the moment they reach Paradise, stomping up to the prickly Angaran merchant, slapping credits onto the counter.

“Water. And I mean a shit ton of it.” The merchant’s eyes narrow as she slowly slides the credits into her pocket, turning to head to a back room. Flynn sighs and wipes the sweat off of her brow, checking her omnitool. She scrolls through the list of missions, muttering to herself, trying to rationalize and calculate which would require the least amount of time spent out in the hellish temperatures of Elaaden.

Vetra hardly minded it, though. In her mind, the desert was much better than Voeld- an opinion often met with arguments on Flynn’s part. The heat made her incredibly moody. 

(However testy she got, Vetra knew of ways to tone down Flynn’s attitude. Gently reminding her of humility, Vetra liked to think. And then sometimes not so gently.)

The Angaran woman returns with a large bottle, and Flynn all but snatches it from her hands, knocking it back and taking incredibly large gulps. Peebee laughs as she watches the Pathfinder gasp with relief after lowering the bottle. Vetra’s eyes stay glued to a droplet of water that slides from the corner of the human’s lips, down her neck. 

Vetra also notices Peebee looking as well.

“Hey now,” Peebee says with a giggle, reaching forward to swipe at the droplet with her thumb. “Sharing is caring.”

Flynn hands the bottle over, leading them over to a bench in a corner of the building. The three of them let out a collective sigh as they take weight off of their feet, slouching in their seats. Flynn leans her head back, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples.

“Fuck me,” she says with a groan. “It’s hot.”

Vetra looks over her, green eyes laden with concern. Their last venture in the desert had nearly ended with Flynn dying of heat stroke, and although she knew SAM would notify them of Flynn’s condition, it didn’t stop her from doing her own research into the symptoms, just so she could be sure. She studied her for what must have been a moment too long, because she was pulled from her thoughts by Peebee’s gloved hand waving the bottle in front of her eyes.

“Nexus control to Vetra, do you copy? I repeat: do you copy?” Peebee asks in a nasally impression of a salarian. 

Flynn snorts. Peebee leans over, a hand rested casually on Flynn’s thigh, the other still offering water. Vetra accepts the bottle, taking a swig and trying not to pay too much attention to how often the asari liked to put her hands on Flynn. 

“You all good in there?” 

Peebee’s head tilts slightly as she gently taps Vetra’s forehead. She can’t really bring herself to be annoyed with the academic’s antics.

“Yeah, all good. Just trying to make sure this one isn’t about to suffer through a heat stroke. _Another_ heat stroke,” Vetra says, elbowing Flynn in the ribs. Said woman’s lips tug at the corners in a lazy, lopsided grin, eyes still closed. 

“Aw, you worry about me.”

It’s meant to be a jest, but the affection is rich and tangible.

SAM cuts in, “Pathfinder, you have a pending vidcall from Addison. She is requesting an update on Elaaden’s viability. Additionally, you still have not acquired Miss Nora’s catalyzer.”

The little moment between the three of them is swept away like sand in the breeze. Flynn huffs, fumbling for her helmet as she made to sit up.

Well. Vetra could always find time to ponder their predicament during the drive.


	7. preservation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes quite a bit for Flynn to say what she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another for you guys! really looking forward to exploring the dynamic between these three.
> 
> thanks to you all for you kudos and comments! it really makes it worthwhile :)

Peebee watches Flynn go down, and she almost doesn’t feel it, at first.

Or rather, she watches a fiend get much too close to Flynn. She must have been distracted to let such a large target get so close. Fuck. Fear seizes her chest as she witnesses Flynn tossed into the air like a rag doll, her sniper rifle falling and burying itself in a snowbank. The fiend’s paw smacks her back out of the air, crushing her on the ground.

There’s a too-loud crack, and Flynn doesn’t get back up.

Peebee hates that she doesn’t respond for a few moments.

Vetra does, however, her armor lighting up like a beacon for punishment, cyclone rifle turbocharged and firing wildly into the remaining crowd of kett, and they drop. Everything echoes for Peebee, moving in slow motion as the foolish part of her brain tries to tell her, _it was only the chestplate’s casing, she’s okay. She’ll get back up any second now-_

Except she doesn’t.

_It wasn’t the casing, was it?_

A dangerous switch is flipped for the asari as her usual, welcomed adrenalin rush is slammed with full-fledged horror. She has to leave. She can’t stay. Flynn is on the ground, there’s so much _red_ under her. She needs to-

“Peebee! For fuck’s sake- call an evac!”

Peebee snaps her head up to look at the turian. Those green eyes have never looked so feral and desperate. She fumbles for the button on her earpiece, fingers trembling for the button she needs. “Gil, we need an evac shuttle, doubletime!”

His voice answers back immediately, and it’s no small relief.

The wait for the shuttle and loading onto it blurs as Peebee makes paces and plans in her head. She’ll leave a note. Probably. 

She’s back in the escape pod, shoving items indiscriminately into her duffel, whatever is close enough to her fingertips. Poc beeps and whirrs from her corner, and Peebee turns back to her, getting her ready for a quick escape, gloved hands lightening-fast.

“You know she’s stable, right?”

Peebee’s heart lurches and she jumps half a foot into the air, spinning around to see Vetra leaned up against the doorframe. She averts her gaze from the turian’s immediately, resuming her packing. She searches the now-empty planes of her mind desperately for a response, an explanation, anything. But, try as she might, nothing presents itself. Suddenly, there’s strong arms circling her waist, so gently, and a chin resting on her shoulder. Peebee goes ramrod straight, stiffening. Her eyes remain trained at her boots as she chews on her bottom lip. 

“She’s also awake. She wanted me to bring you to her. Don’t you think you should at least go see the woman who let you stay before you disappear?”

Vetra’s voice is smooth and comforting, and if the circumstances were different, Peebee would have been overjoyed to have that voice murmuring to her. But now, it only makes her stomach churn with burning anxiety.

She finally finds her voice. “I-I can’t. I need to go.”

“You don’t,” Vetra says, turning her around, talons stroking up her sides to cup her jaw. “Flynn wants to see you. I think she’d be pretty disappointed if you left without saying anything. She’d be disappointed if you left at all.”

Peebee screws her eyes shut and takes a shuddering breath. She opens her mouth to retort, but Vetra interrupts her before she can.

“I would be disappointed if you left.”

The asari opens her eyes, trying to search green ones opposite to hers. She finds only truth and honesty. And heavy concern. She feels Vetra back away, taking her hand and leading her to the medbay. They walk in silence nearly the whole way there, until she stops just before the entrance. 

“You meant what you said, didn’t you?”

Vetra never tosses words around lightly.

“I did.”

And they step forward, medbay doors sliding open to greet them. Lexi and Flynn’s murmurs to each other trail off, both women turning their heads to look at their new arrivals. Lexi, ever the observer, senses the heaviness between the three. “I’ll let the three of you talk,” she rests a protective hand on Flynn’s shoulder. “Be sure to take things easy. The medigel saved you, but that doesn’t mean you get to go and reverse all my hard work and stress.”

The doctor’s tone is serious, but the affection and brief snark doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You two,” Lexi gestures to them as she makes for the door. “Don’t let the Pathfinder get up to any shenanigans.”

Vetra and Peebee nod their affirmative. Once satisfied, Lexi takes off in the direction of the showers.

Flynn turns to look at her teammates, a tired grin growing on her chapped lips. “And how did I manage to get so lucky? My two favorite girls came to see me, huh?”

Vetra pulls a chair up to the cot Flynn is stationed on, seating herself next to her, running a reverent and gentle hand over the heavy bruising on Flynn’s naked torso, making sure that her touch is light enough to escape being painful. Her ribs are black and blue, even without the coloration of her tattoos darkening her skin further. Flynn lets out a sigh.

Peebee tries not to think too loudly, afraid that if she did, Flynn and Vetra would hear her panic.

The asari shudders as the feels Flynn’s blue eyes trace over her. “Hey, Peanut Butter,” she says, voice light with affection. And painkillers. “Stay with us a while?”

Peebee’s heart softens along with her stature. Flynn’s expression remains impossibly hopeful, despite the bruising. She weakly raises a hand, gesturing for Peebee to come sit in the seat opposite to Vetra’s. She does just that, pulling the chair as close to the bed as she could get without obstructing important wires and tubes. Flynn reaches up with one hand, caressing her neckfolds. Peebee shudders and runs her hand up her arm, stopping at her wrist, laying her thumb over Flynn’s pulsepoint.

Vetra takes Flynn’s free hand, resting her knuckles on her forehead, closing her eyes and heaving a sigh.

The turian’s subharmonics tremble as she speaks, “This is the part where we talk about this thing between us, right? We’re all grateful to be alive,” she pauses to give Flynn a pointed look. “And we realize the fragility of life and we’re finally ready to be honest? Please be ready to be honest.”

Flynn smiles, laughing and then wincing as a result.

“Yeah. I think it’s about that time.”

The two turn to look at Peebee, awaiting her input. She swallows thickly as she reads the message in Vetra’s eyes.

_Please stick around for this._

“Yes, please.”


	8. deficiency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A character study of sorts for the darker parts of Flynn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey you guys! I know I do this with every chapter, but thank you all once again for your kind comments and kudos! :D It's all very much appreciated. However, I would like to ask a favor of you, if you are so inclined: some constructive criticism would be great! If you guys can think of anything to share that might improve my writing, and thus, your experience, please feel free to comment it!
> 
> also, trigger warning in this chapter for self harm and just angry feelings in general.

It starts with that stupid fucking “good luck rock”. It’s dumb and just quirky enough that Flynn knows that it came from the surplus that Alec hides beneath his armor. The fact that Cora had to explain the goddamned thing to her… Shame manifested itself in her chest, a cold rod poking at her heart. She should have known that.

Cora just keeps on giving her copies of the treasures her father shared with the commando. Small tokens forged with the better pieces of her dad. The pieces of her dad that she never got. 

A lump grows and festers in the back of Flynn’s throat. She’s at her terminal in the Pathfinder’s quarters, trying and failing to read and respond to emails. Lines of sentences jumble together, leaving her reading the same line over and over. Her eyes burn and prick with hot tears of frustration, leaving her chest and teeth to ache with the effort of subduing the desperate agitation that spills from her. 

She tries to remember the exercises Lexi taught her, tries to take in a deeper breath. She sucks in, a broken sob escapes her lips on the exhale. Flynn slaps her hands over her mouth, curling in on herself. The breaths through her nose are shallow and full of stammers, attempts to balance herself capsizing. 

It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid, and the fact that she cares so much about a rock, about a phrase, hurts so much. It hurts. 

It hurts.

Flynn’s shoulders shake, her frame wracked with every wail that bursts forward without her permission. She shifts and digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, snarling to herself. “Stop crying. Stop crying. Stop _fucking_ crying. Stop-”

SAM’s blue light becomes brighter, bleeding over the walls and her skin. “Pathfinder, your vitals have spiked.”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

Flynn rockets to her feet, knocking her chair back, leaving it to clatter on the floor as she storms from the cabin. She glares at her feet, unintentionally shoulder-checking Lexi on her way down the corridor, ignoring the doctor’s worried calls after her. They only make her walk faster towards the bathroom, sealing the door behind her. 

A roar tears its way out of her chest, scratching her throat, leaving the subsequent shouts hoarse. Flynn smashes her clenched fist against the wall. There’s a solid thud and the ring of impact with metal as pain explodes in her arm. She leaves her fist there, grinding her damaged flesh against the solid surface. She rears back and bashes her fist on the wall again. Again. 

Again. 

Again.

Again. 

Again.

A snap reverberates in the room, Flynn doesn’t feel it, but she looks down to see her wrist has gone limp. Her ears ring and she feels like her stomach is on fire. She slumps, stumbles over to lean against the sink. There’s scarlet blood running down to her fingertips from her knuckles. She lets the droplets stain the floor as she goes.

Muffled voices sound from behind the door. She can’t make out the content, only the owners. She hears Lexi and SAM, Peebee and Vetra. The door beeps as the pressure pad shifts from a harsh red to green, the lock having been overridden. SAM’s work, Flynn blearily estimates. She looks up as Lexi steps in carefully, arms raised, palms facing Flynn. She looks at the the doctor’s worried face and feels tears well up all over again.

Lexi speaks calmly with a flash of pity and concern. “Oh, Flynn. Let's get you cleaned up.”

Lexi makes her way to Flynn, gently taking her uninjured hand and leading her out to the medbay. The walk is slow, her legs weak. Peebee and Vetra stand next to each other, the turian clenching and unclenching her talons. The asari curls her arms around herself in a hug, tapping her foot anxiously. 

Flynn doesn’t look them in the eyes.


	9. pistolero, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vetra makes good on one Flynn's requests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... I've got no excuses or explanations for this one lads...
> 
> enjoy?

They come dressed in the roles they agreed upon earlier, somehow still themselves but… primal. Primal and tinted with some sort of desperation that none of them knew they had. 

Kadara’s setting sun paints the sky with extravagant oranges and pinks, the colors bleeding into each other, painting the mountaintops with halos of gold. Flynn breathes in the air, steadying herself with a measured breath. The three of them rest at the peak of a cliff, the nomad serving as a pseudo shelter for the night. Hot anxiety pools low in her gut, dragging her attention away from the sunset and towards Peebee and Vetra. 

Peebee shrugs off her jacket, excitement oozing off of her in the form of the charge of biotics. The smell of ozone is intoxicating. The asari stands in her bra and her pants, drawing her sidewinder and passing it to Vetra. She’s looking at Flynn when she speaks, but her partners know she’s asking the both of them. “You ready, babe?”

Flynn nods, stepping over to Vetra, who’s leaned up against the nomad, studying the pistol in her grip. “Hell yes,” she replies, her voice barely more than a passionate whisper. Peebee shivers at the sound. Vetra is silent, though. Before either of them can check in with her, she looks at Flynn, searching for reassurance. The idea was Flynn’s in the first place.

(Vetra looks at Flynn in the dim light of the cargo hold. 

“You’re sure that’s what you want from me? I can appreciate powerplay, but this… ah. I guess it’s a little unexpected.”

Flynn only smiles, stepping forward and snaking her arms around the the turian’s neck, planting a kiss on her mandible. “I trust you,” she murmurs. “But it’s entirely up to you. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to or are unsure of.”

Vetra isn’t sure if it’s embarrassing or hilarious that all it took to seal the deal was the image of a flustered and strung-out Flynn on her knees.)

“You just want me to hold it,” she asks, trailing her gaze over Flynn’s slim frame as she approaches her. “And that’s all?”

She can smell the human’s arousal as she comes to a stop in front of Vetra. Her eyes flit down to the loaded weapon and her mouth grows dry. She wets her lips briefly, tilting her head up to flash a charming grin. “Yeah, that’s all. I’ll take care of you later, if you let me.”

“Okay then.”

Her words light a fire between the three, Peebee moving into action immediately. She presses her breasts to Flynn’s back, hands working to find the seals to her armor, kissing and sucking at her neck as she works. A whimper escapes Flynn, hands twitching, almost reaching for support before she remembers herself. One by one, pieces fall to the ground. Her pauldrons go, the arm pieces shucked off. Her chestplate drops behind them, and, after a little more effort, the legs of the suit follow. 

Standing in her under-armor, she feels vulnerable, protected only by the two woman she’s pressed between. The vulnerability makes her so damn wet and her knees weak. It’s a relief when Vetra speaks, stepping forward slightly, raising a hand to cup Flynn’s jaw. She caresses her cheek gently before her touch becomes stern, pressing down on a shoulder. 

“On your knees.”

Flynn follows the command wordlessly. Peebee does as well, situating herself behind her, whispering into the pathfinder’s ear. The asari’s eyes speckle with black, nimble fingers reaching around and caressing her beltline. “You’re so ready, Ryder,” Flynn can feel the meld tugging gently at the back of her mind, nothing more than a tease. 

The bump of a pistol’s cold barrel against her chin brings her back to the task at hand. She can feel both her partner’s eyes trained on her. She dips her head, kissing the tip of the muzzle. Heat shoots down her spine and between her legs, spurring her onwards. The charred signature of incendiary rounds is heavy, and Flynn moans as she runs her tongue along the under side of the barrel. 

She looks up at Vetra, drinking in the sight of predatory green eyes gazing down the sights of the gun, appraising her as if she was nothing more than any other target. Flynn whimpers, lowering her lips over the muzzle, the weapon swallowing her moan. She milks as much of the sight as she can. This might be the only circumstance in which someone could be on the receiving end of Vetra Nyx’s weapon and live. She thinks about how the memory of this moment will be enough to hold her over for a long, long time, and the ache between her legs becomes unbearable. She knows she’s ruined her underwear, the garment soaked thoroughly. 

Peebee finds the zipper to the under-armor, fingers teasing over her. Flynn’s hips jerk on their own accord, desperate for friction and release. She moans around the pistol, lowering her mouth, trying to take as much as she could. She feels the barrel bulge in the pocket of her cheek, and she nearly loses her _goddamned_ mind.

Vetra’s entire frame tenses, flicking the safety off. The click stops both of the women below her in their tracks. They blink up at the turian, waiting for her to speak. She kicks Peebee’s hands away from the apex of Flynn’s spread thighs. Peebee opens her mouth to protest, but Vetra interrupts. 

“Not yet, Peebee. Let Ryder earn it.”

She presses forward, the barrel of the pistol hits the back of Flynn’s throat and her clenched fists spasm, her whole body shuddering. Vetra pumps the pistol in and out of her mouth, ever so slowly, leaving her jaw to ache blissfully. The sound of Vetra’s commanding voice leaves her dancing on a razor’s edge, so fucking close to where she wants to be. Tears prick at the corners of her blue eyes as Flynn pulls back, releasing the muzzle with a wet pop, a trail of saliva dripping down the corner of her mouth. She pants, tongue heavy with loss.

Vetra looks at the asari behind Flynn, giving her a nod. “You can touch yourself, but you aren’t coming until Ryder does.” She pauses for a moment. 

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Peebee hisses as she makes quick work of her belt and the fly of her pants, reaching between her own thighs with no preamble, working her clit. Vetra taps her with her heel. “Ryder too.”

A smirk grows on Peebee’s flushed face, her other hand working between Flynn’s thighs again. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” She kisses the nape of Flynn’s neck, whispering praises to her. Her fingers tease through slick heat, finding an angle that works for the both of them. “You’re so good for us, Flynn.” 

Flynn’s breaths hitch with each pass of the asari’s fingers over her clit, pleasure coiling tight in her abdomen. She feels Peebee connect with her through the meld, and nearly chokes on her breath as their shared sensations wrack her system. She tries to concentrate through the flood of pleasure and sensation, her voice shaking. 

“Vetra, please! I- we’re so fucking close…”

Vetra digs the pistol’s barrel into the hollow of her throat. The metal digs into Flynn’s soft skin, biting and without mercy. Peebee whimpers behind her, feeling it, too. Her rhythm stammers before she grabs a hold of herself again. Flynn gives Vetra one last pleading look. 

Vetra’s expression softens, her unoccupied hand carding through Flynn’s hair. “Come for me, then.”

Both Flynn and Peebee cry out, their shared orgasm crashing over their shuddering bodies relentlessly, each wave as strong as the last. They both hunch over, Peebee curling over Flynn, her arms shifting to hug her partner’s waist, her forehead presses against Flynn’s spine. Flynn reaches back with one hand, caressing Peebee’s crest. The other reaches out, fingers splaying over Vetra’s thigh. Flynn catches her breath for a moment before she speaks, her voice an affectionate hum.

“Might we take care of you, Vetra?”

“Please do.”


End file.
